


Guide Me Home

by blushing_phan



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Anxiety Disorder, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 15:57:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7469817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blushing_phan/pseuds/blushing_phan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For as long as he can remember, Dan has been plagued by inescapable nightmares that follow him even into the depths of his unconscious. Terrified of his own monsters and the monster he fears he could become, Dan isolates his emotions and pushes anybody who attempts to get close to him away, sure that they, too, will learn to fear him, all except for Phil, who sees Dan's light and refuses to let it extinguish.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guide Me Home

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, hey, hey! I've been working on this fic for quite some time now, but have recently been suffering from some rather awful writer's block (especially concerning What's Up, Buttercup?, but no worries, Chapter 6 will be here soon!), and finishing this helped me get through it! I hope you like it as much as I do, please leave any feedback you have for me in the comments because it helps me a lot when it comes to writing these stories! Thank you bunches!

Fear.

It’s a simple word, one that most become acquainted with very early on in life, when the threat of monsters under the bed and in the closet is most profound and pertinent. 

As we grow older, though, our fears of the boogeyman dim and, eventually, dissolve altogether. We learn to fear other things instead, more harrowing things: failure, isolation, loneliness. Our puerile terrors remain in the long, dusty corridor of the forgotten and no longer pose an imminent threat. 

Most of the time. 

Every so often, these horrors refuse to remain buried. They revolt. They hunker towards us, their knuckles dragging the ground, their long, ragged claws scraping the floor as they loom above, blotting out the light of promise and faith. 

These ugly, corpulent creatures are no longer satisfied with their dusty hiding places and instead, take up residence in our minds. Clarity becomes muted, replaced with murky doubt. Our own brains, defected and invaded, recoil in sheer panic, depriving us of the honeyed relief that reason and logic lend us. 

Anxiety spreads like a demonic plague, infecting our ability to sleep, breathe, exist. It is crippling, a hideous carcinoma that delapidates and eradicates. 

Dan Howell knew this feeling all too well. 

It was a part of him. It consumed him, set his being ablaze with burning nightmares and sweltering intrusions, leaving in its wake a nervous, mistrusting human with tremors in his hands and bags beneath his eyes. 

The years that rolled past like heavy stones taught Dan shrewd ways to disguise his anxiety; sarcasm, biting retorts, ironic humor. These devices did not necessarily allow Dan to experience life normally so much as they trapped him within himself. In the presence of others, it was simple enough to ignore. 

Laughter and boisterous words and fond vexing distracted him from the bubbling abyss of inner turmoil. 

But at night, when he was alone, Dan could feel the monster under his bed reaching for his throat. 

Tossing and turning, Dan curled up on the floor and gripped his knees, swallowing his terror over and over, like sipping a poisoned glass of champagne, until the dawn began to bleed into the inky blackness, and day arrived to rescue him once more. 

It was rare that Dan slept in the night, but when he managed to extract himself from his own suffocating thoughts, the nightmares that plagued him drowned him, surrounding his body and filling his lungs until he broke the surface and was plunged back into reality, where the merciless cycle would start all over. 

Phil was not an idiot. 

Despite Dan’s claims that he was simply a night owl, that he spent his evenings contemplating the deeper meanings of life in complete serenity, it was clear to Phil that something was amiss. He knew that Dan didn’t think he’d notice the way his hands shook, or the how his fingernails would subconsciously press into his skin, leaving bloody crescent moons in their wake. 

He did, though. And it bothered him. 

What bothered him most, though, were the moments when Phil would look into Dan’s eyes and find them empty. The soft sparkle that usually inhabited them would be gone, as if frightened away. 

In these moments, Dan’s behavior would become strange, almost robotic. 

His laughter was clearly forced, and he was restless, constantly pacing up and down. The ceaseless pacing was just one of Dan’s many nervous ticks; he also twisted his fingers together, as though anticipating something awful, and he rubbed up and down his arms, like he was cold. 

No, Phil was _not_ an idiot. Something was wrong with his friend...his best friend, and that meant it was his duty to figure out what. 

Secretly, Phil felt…responsible for Dan, in a way. He was, afterall, quite a bit older than Dan was, and Dan was just so...small. He knew Dan would be appalled by this idea, because Dan wanted to be independent, safe from the heartbreak of losing someone. 

However, in typical Phil fashion, he refused to be shut out. He cared far too much for that. 

This firm resolution lead to Phil absolutely _insisting_ that he and Dan spend much more time together than before. 

It wasn’t that Dan minded… _he_ didn’t mind at all. 

The monster under the bed, however, was greatly agitated. 

It would growl lowly in the back of his mind, quietly enough for Dan to ignore, and he enjoyed Phil’s presence: the way Phil poked his tongue out when he laughed, his inability to complete an entire conversation without trying to make several bad jokes. 

His existence was warm. It was comforting. It was enough for Dan to question his beliefs about human relationships, anyway. Was it possible that he had found a person that would stick by him? Someone that wouldn’t leave after a while? Someone who...loved him? 

These thoughts were pleasant, but they didn’t last long. 

Eventually, inevitably, the torrent of cold rain and dark clouds that usually inhabited Dan’s mind would begin to form, blotting out the rays of sunshine lent to him by Phil, and he would start to slip away again. 

Just as Phil thought he might have caught a glimpse of Dan’s inner fire, his light, his passion, it was gone again, extinguished like a candle in the wind. 

And Dan would drag himself off to bed, never quite prepared to face the night. 

It wasn’t until several weeks had gone by, several weeks full of Phil taking Dan to different cafes, introducing him to new foods and video games, telling him the most embarrassing stories he could think of, and trying his very hardest to ignite the boy, that Phil stumbled upon and down into the frightening abyss that Dan essentially existed inside of. 

Honestly, it was purely an accident. 

It was either very late at night or rather early in the morning, and Phil was still awake. He was thinking. Or, rather, he was trying to sleep, but his brain had different plans. 

Tomorrow, he and Dan were meant to go on a journey through the London streets until they found a shop that sold bubble tea, which Phil had read about online and was intrigued by. In fact, he had read the entire Wikipedia aloud to Dan, who, by the end of the twenty-minute reading, was laughing so hard that his cheeks were flushed. Phil had figured out that by doing incredibly mundane things as though they were vastly exciting, he could make Dan laugh. Dan’s laugh was absolutely extraordinary, as it was about two or three pitches higher than his actual voice, and caused his eyes to squint up and his dimple to appear in all its glory. 

His happiness was glorious. 

Secretly, Phil thought Dan was all different kinds of glorious. He was also inspired, incredibly smart, open-minded, and had a wonderful sense of humor. 

Phil wondered if Dan knew how special he was. He didn’t think so, and it made his heart feel incredibly heavy, almost in a painful way. 

In a desperate attempt to make himself sleepy, Phil kicked off the blankets, felt around in the darkness until he found his glasses, and got up to get a drink from the bathroom. 

As he passed Dan’s door, which was slightly ajar, he paused. 

The sound of frantic rustling came from inside the room, mingled with vague whimpering and sporadic, sharp intakes of breath. 

Phil pushed the door open, his hesitance to invade Dan’s privacy outweighed immeasurably by the concern he felt flooding his chest like ice water. 

Dan lay cocooned in his duvet, tossing and turning wildly in his sleep. 

He seemed desperate to escape something that was on the verge of closing in on him, and he cried out into his pillow over and over, pleading with some unknown entity just to leave him be. Phil hastened to the bedside and pulled Dan free from the tangle of sheets and blankets, but he remained trapped in his nightmarish subconscious, his face ashen and twisted in horror. 

The sound of Dan’s strangled cries tugged viciously at Phil’s heartstrings, and in a distraught attempt to yank the chestnut-haired boy back into reality, he grabbed Dan’s hands and pinned them to the pillows on either side of his head, forcing Dan to uncurl his fists so he could intertwine their fingers. 

“Dan,” Phil said softly, though his voice strained from the force he exerted attempting to keep Dan from thrashing about. 

“Dan!” 

“No!” Dan cried, his voice spindly and raw as he struggled against Phil. “No!” 

Phil could feel the tears behind his eyes. 

“Dan! Wake up!” he pleaded, his lower lip beginning to wobble. “Please!” 

With one more cry of fright that transcended into a sob, Dan gasped as though he were being plunged into a bucket of ice water. His coffee-colored eyes, almost black in the darkness, flew open wide and, in his fatigued, muddled state, shoved Phil harshly away from him. 

Phil lost his footing and tumbled to the ground with a thump, but he scrambled back onto his feet, staring at Dan through the silken sheet of blackness. 

“Dan…?” He asked hesitantly, and Dan, his chest heaving as his lungs fought to restore the oxygen lost in his physical battle with a metaphysical night terror, gave Phil one single look and burst into tears. 

“Oh, Dan…” Phil murmured, eager to help, to comfort his best friend in any way he could manage, to assuage his terrors because watching Dan tremble in fright and hearing his heart-wrenching sobs was making his heart feel as though it were made of lead. 

His eyes flitted around the room, before landing on the plug socket beside Dan’s headboard. 

“Let’s get some light in here…” Phil said, his voice gentle, moving closer to plug in the fairy lights Dan had draped across his bed frame. 

The tiny, twinkling lights illuminated the room just enough to bathe Dan in a soft, buttery glow. 

It was a comforting light, Phil thought, as he climbed up onto the bed and settled himself before Dan, who sat with his face pressed into his knees, his arms wrapped tightly around his whole body, as though he were trying to hold all of his broken pieces together. 

Phil reached out carefully, his fingers barely brushing Dan’s hair, which was ruffled and curled from his tossing about, and Dan flinched as though he were expecting pain, but he didn't pull away. 

Phil smoothed down Dan’s hair, humming a soothing tune as he did, before he leaned down and gathered the younger boy into his arms. 

To his mild surprise, Dan didn't try to pull away, but he didn't nestle into Phil, either. 

He simply allowed himself to be cradled close, allowed Phil’s scent, flowery and sweet, like honeysuckles, to enfold him. 

“Everything’s alright now,” Phil whispered, his thumbs rubbing circles at the base of Dan’s spine. 

The warm touch, the sensation of human affection, was almost completely alien to Dan, who had been expertly avoiding any sort of tenderness involving other people for an insurmountable number of years. 

The heat of another body was almost stifling, but, despite it all, Dan finally leaned into the touch, all at once hungry for it. He released a shaky breath, his fists curling against the soft fabric of Phil’s shirt, and Phil couldn't help the little smile the quirked the corners of his mouth. 

“I've got you.” 

Phil didn't ask any questions; that could wait. For now, the only thing he truly cared about was Dan, the physical, breathing human being in his arms. 

Dan was still shivering, as though he were cold, and Phil could feel the dampness of shed tears against his chest, and he knew that he would never be able to coax Dan back to sleep if he were anxious and crying. 

He looked around for something, anything, he could use as a distraction. His eyes settled upon a black Sharpie, and he tipped his head to one side, contemplative. 

“Here, Dan...lay down on your stomach, okay?” Phil said, gently persuading Dan onto the bed, before he leaned forwards and grabbed the marker from atop the bedside table. He sat himself down beside Dan, before he pushed Dan’s shirt up just enough to reveal the majority of his back. 

Phil paused, waiting for protest. 

When none came, he uncapped the Sharpie and tapped his chin with the other end. Dan’s back was dotted with tiny beauty marks, reminiscent of the ones on his cheeks, and Phil smiled a little. 

They reminded him of stars, too. 

Struck with an idea, Phil began to speak as he lowered the tip of the marker and began to draw a large-ish circle near Dan’s left hip. 

“Did you know that Mercury is nearly 58 million kilometers away from the sun?” he said, adding little rays all around the circle to represent sunbeams. 

The boy was still trembling a little bit, but his head perked up slightly from where he had it laid against his arms at the sensation of the cold ink on his skin. 

Phil busied himself drawing Mercury. 

“And it takes 88 days for it to complete its orbit.” 

Curious as to what Phil was up to, Dan turned his head, his eyebrows drawn together. 

“Wh-What are you…?” 

“Well, I'm mapping the solar system, of course. Hold still, you're gonna make Venus all lumpy if you keep moving.” 

Confused but far too tired and still upset, Dan simply returned to laying down flat. 

“Venus is completely covered by a layer of clouds that are made out of sulphuric acid,” Phil was saying, as he drew a puffy cloud around his circle representing Venus. “Humans would burn up in seconds if we tried to live there.” 

Dan wondered what Phil was trying to pull; he was aware of the fact that Phil had caught him having a nightmare, the same one that usually plagued him: He would be sitting on a bench beside a small pond, tossing bits of bread to the ducks in the pond. All of the sudden, the cloudless sky would grow dark and stormy. The wind would pick up and a figure all in black would appear in the distance slowly making his way towards Dan and reaching for his throat, and no matter how fast or far away Dan ran, the stranger would be just behind him, hands outstretched. 

Knowing that Phil was aware now of his tortured nights, Dan knew it was only a matter of time before Phil began to ask questions, and, eventually, Dan would be forced to admit his miserable days as well. 

_It was nice while it lasted,_ Dan thought, feeling tears threatening to overwhelm him again. He didn't want to lose Phil, who had, somehow, managed to touch his heart and make his stomach flutter in ways nobody else ever had. _But after he finds out what I'm like...who I really am...he’ll-_

“-and Mars,” Phil was saying, successfully distracting Dan from his overwhelming thoughts. “has two moons.” 

Phil knew Dan loved the moon, after one night when it was full and Dan spent nearly fifteen minutes gazing up at it. 

“Two moons?” 

“Yes. Phobos and Deimos. They were named after two warriors from Greek mythology, who accompanied the God, Ares, into war. He was their father.” 

Dan shifted a little, nestling his cheek into the pillows. “Mars was named for Ares, wasn't it?” 

“Sort of. Mars is the Roman equivalent of Ares, just like Jupiter is the Roman equivalent of Zeus…” 

As Phil recreated the solar system on Dan’s skin, the soothing sensation of the soft-tipped marker gliding across his back and the comforting, familiar sound of Phil’s baritone voice, Dan found himself clinging to every word Phil said, his eyelids growing heavier and heavier. 

By the time Phil was explaining that Pluto wasn't discovered until 1930, and had completed less than one-third of its first orbit around the sun when it was reclassified as a dwarf planet, Dan was drifting off to sleep again. 

He began to quiver again as Phil added little zigzags to Pluto to represent the thin layer of ice that occupied its surface, and he paused, feeling his heart sink, because he was sure that his plan had been working, before he realized that Dan was laughing. 

“It tickles.” Dan mumbled, tone garbled with drowsiness, and Phil smiled fondly. He leaned back to admire his work, satisfied with his model, before he recapped the marker and carefully pulled Dan’s shirt back down. 

“Sweet dreams, Dan...please…” He whispered, moving as carefully as he could, so as not to rouse Dan from his newly peaceful slumber. 

Evidently, it didn't work, because Dan poked his head up sleepily. “Don't go.” 

Phil gazed down at the snoozy boy, who looked small and soft all snuggled up to his pillows, and he couldn't bring himself to leave him all alone. 

Phil climbed back up into Dan’s bed after retrieving the blankets from where they'd been tossed to the floor and tucked them around Dan before slipping in and curling up beside him. 

“I won't.” 

And he meant it.


End file.
